


we met this way (my perfect stranger)

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, alternative universe, this is also kind of fluffy???, this is only rated t for a few bad words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 17:40:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3076511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when she peaks out of her shutters to see which of her lovely mates it is, she's surprised - and confused - to see it’s neither.</p>
<p>in fact, she doesn't even know the man throwing rocks at her window.</p>
<p>;;</p>
<p>or the one where jemma makes a sandwich for the drunk guy that woke her up in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we met this way (my perfect stranger)

**Author's Note:**

> so in the midst of writing this huge angsty fic i saw a tumblr post/prompt that was too good for me not to try and fill so i took a break from the angst and wrote this little thing here. its a little more fluffy than im used to writing but i think its okay enough. hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> also the title (which is terrible and has almost nothing to do with the story itself) is from civil twilight's 'perfect stranger'.

For a moment Jemma thinks the loud tapping noise she hears is all in her head, something stemming from her dream. It's only when she opens one eye does she realize she's not imagining the tapping sound at all.

Someone is throwing rocks at her window.

She hesitates before jumping out of bed to cautiously investigate. Her apartment is in a pretty safe neighborhood so she doesn't think it's an axe murderer or anything but still. Better safe than sorry.

She thinks maybe it’s Skye. Her friend always had a penchant for doing strange things. Tossing rocks at Jemma's window at two am to get her attention instead of simply texting her doesn't seem out of her realm of possibilities.

She even considers maybe it's Fitz. Perhaps he's invented some rock-throwing contraption and decided in front of her window in the middle of the night is the proper time to test it out.

When Jemma peaks out of her shutters to see which of her lovely mates it is, she's surprised - and confused - to see it’s neither.

In fact, she doesn't even know the man throwing rocks at her window.

He's currently searching the ground for more pebbles and Jemma can see the glass bottle clutched in his hand.

So he's drunk and throwing rocks. Fantastic.

When he straightens back up to hurl another one at her window, she ducks out of his line of vision. She isn't sure she wants the man to see her. He could be some drunk, violent homeless man throwing things at people's windows to find a victim to rob or something.

(She makes a mental note that maybe it's time to stop watching so much television.)

Regardless, Jemma thinks it's best she avoid contact with this man. She's perfectly capable of going back to bed, turning on some light music and ignoring the tapping until he gives up and goes away.

Until he starts singing.

_That_ she cannot ignore.

She stomps back over to the window, draws up her blinds and opens her window. When she pokes her head out, he immediately stops.

"Excuse me sir, it is two in the morning. While you do have a semi-decent voice, could you please not sing or throw things at my window?" She yells down at him.

His face contorts into a confused expression. "Wait, you're not Whitney."

Oh. So he was really trying to bother her neighbor.

"No, I am not. She's to the left of me. And she's not even home."

"Oh." He frowns and then shrugs, stumbling a little as he does. "Hey, do you wanna hang out?"

Jemma almost can't believe any of this is real. In fact, she's very much inclined to believe this is a dream.

"It's just - Whitney called me a little while ago and broke up with me over the phone and I came over to try and talk to her but she's not even here. God, I'm such a mess," he's talking quite loudly and Jemma can see a few of her neighbors flicking on their lights. "I'm a mess aren't I?"

"Listen, you're not a mess; you're just upset. You just need to calm down and go home and sleep this off. I'm sure Whitney will speak to you tomorrow." Jemma can see him considering her words.

He takes another swig from his bottle and stumbles into the street. There are a few cars on the road at this time of night and she's momentarily worried he's going to get himself run over.

She tells herself that concern - the concern for the wellbeing of another person - is what causes her to do what she does next.

"Um, you stay right there, okay? I'm coming down." Jemma hurries to slip on a pair of jeans she had tossed on her bedroom floor and threw on a jumper. She locks up her apartment before taking the flight of stairs down to the ground floor. When she gets outside, the rock-throwing Romeo is still teetering on the sidewalk.

"Hey," he smiles sloppily at her and throws his arm around her shoulders. "It's you. You actually came down."

"Did you think I was lying?" She asks shrugging herself out of his grasp. "You know what? Never mind that. Let's get you cleaned up."

She reaches for the bottle in his hand, which he jerks away like a petulant child. "I don't even know your name. What makes you think you can take my alcohol?"

She sighs. "I'm Jemma. Now give it to me."

He stares her down for a moment like he's sizing her up. A moment later he relents and hands her the bottle of amber liquid. "I'm Grant."

"Grant," She repeats as she pours the remaining bit of liquid out on the street. If she wasn't so mildly irritated with him the way he pouts at her when she hands him back the empty bottle might actually be adorable. "Do you have a safe way of getting home? Someone you can call, maybe?"

He shakes his head. "I don't wanna go home. I want some food. You want some food?"

"No, I want to go back in my apartment and sleep."

"Do you have food in there?"

Jemma finds herself really, _really_ wanting to wring his neck but she resists the urge. "If I feed you, will you let me call you a cab to take you home?"

Grant perks up at the suggestion and nods in a way that reminds her vaguely of an excited puppy.

"Fine, let's go get you some food."

Jemma drags Grant up the stairs - he can't seem to shut up; he spent the entire walk up telling her how soft her hair looked - and into her apartment without smacking him once. She'll label that a win. She directs him to sit at her small dining room table while she goes in the kitchen to get him something.

"Do you like grilled cheese?" She asks from inside the kitchen.

"I fucking love grilled cheese." His hand shoots up to his mouth and his eyes goes wide. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to curse."

Okay, he may be getting on her nerves but that was kind of cute.

"It's alright. I'm a big girl, I've heard swear words before."

"Yeah but I bet you've only heard, like, British swear words which aren't really swear words at all. Like wanker. I mean what even is that?"

"It's what you're acting like right now." She answers with a smile on her face.

Grant looks back at her and his gaze a bit unsettling. In a good way, though. He's looking at her as if there's a halo floating above her head.

"You're cute." He states, matter-of-factly. "I never knew Whitney had a cute neighbor."

Jemma attributes that to the fact that he's a bit drunk. "I never knew Whitney had a wanker for a boyfriend."

He laughs and it fills the entire room. It's the kind of warm, hearty laugh that's infectious and she finds herself smiling over his almost finished grilled cheese sandwich.

She plates his sandwich and brings it over to him. He mumbles a thank you as she takes a seat beside him. Before he takes a bite, he tears the sandwich in two and offers her half.

"Oh no, it's all yours." She says.

"Jem," he sighs. So he's already given her a nickname. "I can't be the only one eating on our first date."

She snorts - an honest to god snort - at his words. "We're on a date now?" He nods sharply. "What happened to getting Whitney back?"

"I like you better right now. She dumped me; you made me grilled cheese. She didn't have an accent, you do. Which," he takes a bite from his half of the sandwich. "Is actually a big deal because just the other day I was telling my buddy Trip how much of a turn on accents are."

Jemma feels her face warm up. Fifteen minutes ago she was half-asleep. Now she's got some inebriated (attractive, she'll admit it) stranger in her dining room telling her that her accent is a turn on. This _has_ to be a dream.

"Grant, just eat your sandwich."

He doesn't listen, of course. He spends the entire duration of his meal talking her ear off. She learns he was only dating Whitney for three months, she broke it off because she said he was too 'broody' and he ' _really fucking loves_ ' Jemma's grilled cheese, especially.

By the time he's done, Jemma's certain he's sobered up a bit and is good to safely go home.

"Now that I've fed you, time to go home." She announces, padding over to the kitchen counter to grab her cellphone.

Grant let's out a little moan and follows her to the kitchen counter. "How about another sandwich and we talk some more?"

"How about I call you a cab and you go home?" He sticks his bottom lip out and, okay she can't deny it. That was downright adorable. "Okay I'll make a deal with you. You go home, get some rest and tomorrow when you wake up with the worst hangover you've ever had, if you still want a sandwich and more conversation, come back to my apartment and I'll let you take me out for breakfast."

"Alright, sounds fair." With his approval, she calls him a cab and walks him out to the sidewalk to wait for it. When it pulls up, he slides in and tells her to expect him tomorrow morning. She highly doubts it but tells him she will anyway.

After he's gone she nearly sprints back to her bed to finally get some sleep without someone tossing pebbles at her window.

;;

Given that she has the day off - and given the night she had - Jemma expected to sleep in.

She definitely didn't expect to hear that tapping noise again.

She shuffles over her window, pops it open and sees Grant standing below yet again.

"Jemma!" He greets her with a toothy grin. "Come down! We have a breakfast date, remember?"

;;

Years later, when they're both standing in front of friends and family declaring their love for one another, Grant takes out a piece of paper from inside his jacket to read his vows. Jemma thinks she knows how they're going to start before he even speaks.

"I'll never forget the night we met. I was drunk and threw rocks at the wrong window and instead of calling the cops on me like you probably should have, you made me the best grilled cheese sandwich I've ever had. That's when I knew I was in love..."

**Author's Note:**

> kudos/comments are always much appreciated!!!


End file.
